ArchivedLogs:Vignette - Peter Tells His Family

Vignette - Peter Tells His Family
Dramatis Personae Peter, Uncle Ben, Aunt May	23 February, 2013 Peter tells his uncle and aunt that he's a mutant. It goes pretty much how you'd expect.
Location Peter's House (Queens)
It is evening in the Parker residence. Benjamin Parker is laid back on a wooden board with mounted wheels; his upper torso is currently nestled beneath a 1967 pearl-green VW Bug. A tool-box sits near his hip, with occasional clanks and thumps rattling out from under the automobile as he works. Peter enters the garage hesitantly -- school-bag slung over his good right arm, wearing a black hoodie, blue-jeans, and a t-shirt with a BATMAN symbol on it. As Benjamin continues, Peter gnaws on his lower lip, thinking. Benjamin seems to sense the boy's presence: "Got something you want to talk about, son?" "Yeah," Peter says. "Um, yes, uncle. Can you -- come out from under there?" "In a minute," Benjamin says. "I almost got this -- just a few more things to tighten up. You can't tell me like this?" "It's, uh, hard to just... I think I need to show you something," Peter says. "Well, alright, son. Almost done here -- would you mind passing me the flathead?" Peter leans forward, reaching into the tool box... and rather than pushing it under the car, he grabs the side of the bug -- with his good hand -- and proceeds to pull, *tilting* it backwards with a low, rumbling creak. It lifts high enough for Uncle Ben -- face and clothes covered in soot -- to now see Peter, blinking up at him owlishly. Peter hands him the screwdriver. "Uh," Uncle Ben says, staring at Peter. "...okay, let's -- let's go sit down and have that talk." A few minutes later and Aunt May, Uncle Ben, and Peter are all sitting at the kitchen table -- the former two staring at Peter with wrinkled, curious brows -- while Peter stares down into a glass of soda silently. Aunt May starts asking questions first: "So... how long?" "Three, maybe four months..." "And --" Aunt May thinks, now, trying to figure out how to phrase this: "--what can you... do?" "Well, he can sure as hell nearly give a man a heart-attack," Uncle Ben says, but his tone makes it clear this is more good-natured ribbing than anything. He soon adds: "How strong _are_ you?" "I don't... know. Really strong," Peter says, "and really fast." "Well, alright then," Uncle Ben says. Peter looks up to him -- then to Aunt May -- then blinks. "...alright?" Aunt May shrugs. "We're... concerned, Peter. And curious, too. But -- I guess the only thing we _really_ want to know is why you kept it from us for so long...?" "I don't--know," Peter admits. "I guess I just thought... you'd be worried." "We _are_ worried. We _always_ worry. That's part of the job, Peter," Uncle Ben says. He soon adds: "But Jesus! You can pick up the back-end of the car. So at least I don't have to worry about you ever getting _crushed_ by one." Peter smiles, although the smile is hesitant. It gets less so when both his aunt and uncle get up to hug him.